by Laurel Kerr
Yet it was the fire in the lass’s gaze that blazed through Magnus’s blood. He’d never had someone look at him the way June did, never had someone believe in him. And it didn’t feel superficial. Aye, there was a steadfastness in June’s certainty. She truly thought him capable of speaking to a crowd this size.
In defiance of his own doubts, he found himself nodding and turning toward the throng. Despite all of his practice with June and the bears, he hadn’t gotten to the stage of purposely stuttering in public, unless he counted the vlog. The self-help book had recommended going to stores and similar places to get desensitized to his blocks, but he hadn’t been able to force himself to do that yet. It was hard enough stopping himself from switching word choices when he felt himself begin to tense.
June squeezed his hand once more before she released it to train the camera on him. He didn’t have to be perfect, Magnus reminded himself. June had taught him that. And Magnus knew if he failed, June wouldn’t judge him, not like his da. But he would disappoint her if he didn’t make an attempt.
Magnus took one more breath and began, purposely stuttering on the word camel, which never gave him trouble. “These c-c-camels came from the Sagebrush Zoo.”
“What are their names?” asked a little girl clinging to her mother’s hand.
Magnus reached up and patted Lulubelle. At the gesture, the camel made a contented sound, and the crowd laughed. Not at him. Not at his stutter. At the camel.
Magnus felt himself relax…marginally. “This lass here is Lulubelle.”
He reached over and patted Hank next. The male camel gave him a sidelong glance, which triggered another round of chuckles. “Hank is the zoo’s m-m-male.” Magnus turned to Savannah. When he brushed his hand over her woolly head, the little calf playfully butted him. The crowd let out a collective “Awww.”
“And this wee lassie is Savannah.” At the sound of her name, the peedie camel gave a little skip. More sounds of affection filled the air, and Magnus felt an even greater sense of ease.
A peedie lad who’d been sucking his thumb removed his finger and pointed at Savannah. In a loud, high-pitched tone only a toddler could achieve, the bairn cried, “Baby!” The crowd chuckled again. The child looked particularly pleased with himself as he stuck his finger back in his mouth.
“What do camels eat?”
“All variety of things,” Magnus said. “For a special t-t-treat, we give them alfalfa hay, which horses and coos also fancy.”
“Ooo,” a lass in her early twenties called out, waving to him, “I love your accent. It’s so sexy. Are you from Scotland?”
Magnus’s tension flooded back. His throat began to tighten as his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He managed an “Aye,” which caused the hen and her two friends to squeal. Loudly.
“What part of Scotland?” the lass’s friend asked.
“Do you ever wear a kilt?” The third hen fired off her question so fast Magnus wouldn’t have been able to speak even if his throat hadn’t felt like rubbish.
“Are you single?”
The trio paused then and stared at him expectantly. A thin sheen of sweat covered Magnus. He never wanted to talk about himself, and the lasses’ aggressive interest made him as uncomfortable as a sea trout pulled from the water.
He felt June’s hand on his bicep. Warm and steadying. He turned in her direction and found her smiling brightly at the women.
“Magnus is from a tiny island in the North Sea called Tammay,” June said. “He doesn’t own a kilt, although it is one of my life goals to see him in one. And, sorry, ladies, but he’s currently all mine, and I’m not one for sharing.”
Disappointment gleamed in the hens’ eyes, but the rest of the throng laughed again. Some of the pressure inside Magnus eased, but he knew he’d lost his speaking rhythm. June kept her grip on his arm as she scanned the crowd. “How would y’all like if I went inside and brought out a treat for these lovely camels? I might not have alfalfa, but I do have some nice Granny Smiths I use for making my famous apple butter.”
The crowd cheered, and Magnus shook his head fondly. Only June could command a group with such ease. With a few sentences, she’d managed to make the lasses simmer down and distract everyone’s attention from him.
“Would you like to help me cut up the apples?” June asked Abby quietly. The girl nodded eagerly. Turning to Magnus, June whispered, “Watch Nan.” Then she darted into the shop with Abby following close behind. Fortunately, the people began to talk among themselves, but Magnus saw June’s grandmother shift uncomfortably. She gazed up, her hazel eyes clouded again. “Where’d Junie go?”
He reached down and patted the auld hen as he’d seen June do. “She went inside to get apples for the camels. I’ll watch over you.”
That seemed to satisfy Clara. She gave him a little nod and turned her attention back to the animals. June came bustling out of the shop with a bowlful of diced fruit. Everyone clamored to be the one to feed the camels, but June selected the wee lassie who’d first spoken and two other children. Abby showed them how to hold the treat properly so the beasties wouldn’t accidentally nip the children’s fingers. The little girl from the crowd giggled as Lulubelle gently suctioned the apple from her hand.
“That tickles!” she said as she turned to Magnus, a bright smile on her already cherubic face.
“Aye, lassie, it does.”
“Thank you!” she told him. “This is the best day ever!”
Magnus glanced up at June. Although he wouldn’t classify this as the best day ever, he’d spoken to a large group, something he’d never dreamed of doing. But the lass had made it possible. He didn’t know how. After growing up under his da’s constant control, he despised when people tried to tell him what to do. But June? June could cajole him into anything. As much as Magnus appreciated today, June’s ability sometimes left him uneasy—as if he was in danger of losing the peaceful independence he’d nearly died to achieve.
* * *
Honey was bored. Bored. Bored. Bored.
The Blond One had not appeared for days, and the Giant One’s grumpiness had vanished. She had tried a game of chase yesterday, but he hadn’t lost his temper. Not once. It had been the dullest romp through the zoo.
Honey needed an adventure. Slipping from her enclosure, she headed toward the house where the humans made their den. Finding a nice spot in the bushes, she waited for an opportunity. In her old home whenever she needed a bit of excitement, she would sneak into one of the vehicles.
After an hour’s wait, the Red-Headed One finally emerged. Honey silently trailed the biped to her car.
As Honey watched the woman open the door, she smiled. This would be fun.
* * *
There was a honey badger in June’s kitchen. In. Her. Kitchen! And June swore that the little rascal was grinning at her. Broadly. It was definitely taunting her. The little devil waited, its black eyes staring unblinkingly at June. As soon as she dove in its direction, it scurried away. This time it scampered right through the middle of June’s legs.
June didn’t know how many health code violations were being broken right now. It was one thing to have a caravan of camels outside her shop. Their visit yesterday had drawn in the tourists. A snarling, foul-tempered honey badger could only attract trouble.
At least Nan was asleep in the back room and blissfully oblivious to the chaos. June’s assistant had already fled, but, thankfully, not before the woman had put in a call to the zoo.
Honey must have slipped unnoticed into Katie’s car and then into the tea shop. Katie had only stopped in for a second to drop off nutrient shakes for Nan. No matter what June whipped up for dinner, her nan wouldn’t eat properly. June had tried making her grandmother’s favorite dishes, but even that didn’t coax her into taking more than a few bites. When June encouraged her to attempt a little more, Nan claimed she had trouble
swallowing, even though she could consume food just fine. They’d even checked at the hospital for a physical reason for her loss of appetite. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, Nan’s diet difficulties were all in her mind.
And that was the heartbreaking reality with disorders affecting the brain. They were typically not as immediately lethal as physical ailments, yet they slowly and devastatingly weakened the body. They were often difficult, if not impossible to diagnose. After a battery of tests and a team of doctors, Nan’s illness remained unknown. Yes, they knew about the sodium drop and the UTI, but it didn’t explain her grandmother’s continuing symptoms that didn’t present like classic Alzheimer’s or dementia.
So here June was, watching her nan slowly fade. Not knowing why. Or the timeline. Or what was going to happen next. Or whether there would be a next.
It was wearing. Her parents had left less than a week ago, but June still felt an overwhelming exhaustion she’d never experienced before. She’d always been the one with the endless energy. A firecracker, her maternal grandpappy had called her. But she felt as burned out as a sparkler after the Fourth of July. Her grandmother had an endless list of demands. When she wasn’t asking for something, she was regarding June with suspicion. There were times when June saw a flicker of her old nana, and often that hurt the most. The only time June had time to herself was when her gran was sleeping.
And now, during one of those precious naps, a honey badger was hell-bent on destroying June’s kitchen and her two businesses along with it. As if sensing the direction of her thoughts, the little devil stared straight at her as it deliberately stood up on its hind legs. The minx turned and scaled the bottom cabinets, using one of the oven handles for leverage. June gave a battle cry and lunged at the weasel.
“Oh, no you don’t. You’re not putting your dirty paws all over my counters, and you’re certainly not getting into my preserves.”
She swore the little imp winked. June’s cry certainly didn’t stop its upward crawl. As her hand grazed its coarse fur, the creature turned its head to snarl. Its sharp, daggerlike teeth came perilously close to June’s fingertips.
She didn’t care.
With an agility fueled by frustration heaped upon frustration, June yanked the critter off her counter, ignoring the scrape of its talons against her expensive stainless-steel oven. The honey badger twisted, trying its best to claw and bite. It hissed worse than a goose after a chunk of bread. June didn’t give a fig. She hissed right back. Precisely at that moment, both Magnus and Bowie walked into her kitchen.
* * *
Magnus never knew what to expect when he entered June’s tea shop. The woman was like a kaleidoscope, always bright and constantly changing. Nothing, however, would have prepared him for the scene before him.
June stood in the center of her normally pristine scullery holding a snarling Honey. The mustelid violently bucked its body in a futile bid for freedom. Fangs flashed, and claws pinwheeled.
Despite the beastie’s ferocity, June remained undaunted. Instead of stepping back or dropping the whalp, she leaned forward. Her lips curled back like the honey badger’s, but instead of sharp gnashers, she revealed a row of perfect pearly whites. The guttural sound that emerged from June was elemental.
Bowie leaned toward Magnus and murmured, “Part of me wants to laugh, but most of me is afraid to.”
“I wouldn’t,” Magnus advised quietly.
Woman and beast turned in their direction. Both froze. The honey badger recovered first, arching its long body. June maintained her hold, and the rest of her seemed locked into place. Although Magnus was the last thing from a jolly fellow, he felt mirth swell inside him like a hot-air balloon. With effort, he managed to tamp it down.
“Do you need h-help, lass?” Magnus asked, this time the hesitation in his voice coming from suppressed amusement and not his stutter. June must have recognized the difference since her expression turned as dry as a stale oatcake.
“No, I’m just as right as rain over here,” she said.
Bowie stepped forward and relieved June of her furry burden. Honey did not appreciate the transfer. She thrashed even harder, her head twisting like a snake’s. Bowie gave the creature a surprisingly fond smile. Magnus would’ve wanted to strangle the wee blighter.
“How’d you get here?” Bowie asked Honey. He was greeted with a prolonged growl.
“It must have stowed away in Katie’s car,” June answered. “She dropped off some nutrient shakes earlier today.”
Bowie frowned at Honey. “Is that so?”
“Bowie,” June said, her drawl even thicker than normal, “if y’all don’t get that varmint out of my kitchen this instant, honey badger pie is going to be on the menu.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Bowie said and then started toward the exit. He didn’t even take time to turn around as he spoke to Magnus. “I take it you’re staying.”
“Aye.”
As soon as Bowie and the wee devil departed, Magnus turned his attention back to June. To his utter horror, her face crumpled. In a very un-June-like fashion, she slumped into a chair and buried her head in her arms. Deep, heaving sobs echoed through the utilitarian scullery.
Baws.
Cautiously, Magnus moved forward and rested his hand on her back. The contact seemed to make her cry harder. Still, he didn’t pull back. June wasn’t like him. She didn’t crave solitude when she was hurting. She needed people.
He didn’t try asking what was wrong. June was a natural talker, and she’d tell him when she was ready. Instead, he just stood there, stroking her hair, letting her know she wasn’t alone.
Finally, she stopped and raised her head. Streaks of tears marred her bonny cheeks, but she was still a braw lass even after all her crying. She sniffed and swiveled in her seat, clearly looking for a tissue. Magnus spied two dry dishcloths and handed her one.
She glanced up at him. “This doesn’t seem very sanitary.”
“Lass, there was a honey badger in your scullery.”
June gave a resigned shrug. “This towel is going directly into the wash.”
“I can do that for you.”
Her lower lip started to wobble again. June lifted a shaky hand to her mouth and pressed it there. Magnus placed his hand on her shoulder. “There’s no harm in grieving, lass.”
June shook her head. “I’ve got to be strong, Magnus. Nan needs me.”
Magnus scowled as he studied her. Although her green eyes appeared bright, he could see faint lines of tension surrounding them. Aye, her whole face looked pinched and a little peely walley. Maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe the lass did need prodding in order to open up to him.
“You’re always telling me to talk about it,” Magnus said.
She gave a watery laugh and plucked at the second dishcloth. “I’m not used to being the one who needs to unload.”
Magnus pulled up another chair. “I’m better at listening than at blethering.”
June sighed, the sound weary and sad. “I feel like a piece of candy at a taffy pull. I’m being yanked in so many directions, I don’t know which way to go. I love Nan, I really do, but this isn’t easy.”
Magnus reached over and rubbed her back. “You’re doing a fine job, lass. A fine job.”
She teared up again and nodded jerkily. “But it’s hard, especially at night. I’m getting no sleep. She’s constantly getting up. I think she’s lost all sense of time.”
“Would it help if I stayed here t-t-tonight, lass?” Magnus asked. As he blocked on the t, he realized he hadn’t stuttered for most of the conversation.
“But the zoo—”
“Bowie doesn’t need my help at night anymore,” he said. “And he did fine without me when your nan was in the hospital.”
Finally, June nodded. “It would be nice. Having your company again. I’ve missed you.”
It was
odd being needed. Aye, his da had tried to keep him on the croft, but the auld man hadn’t really wanted Magnus himself. He just couldn’t stand being alone with no one to order about and to help with the chores.
But June?
June desired him. And that both alarmed and pleased him.
* * *
“I won’t be around as much,” Magnus said as he supervised Sorcha’s evening visit with Frida. Both bears ignored him. Sorcha was too busy chewing on her teddy bear, and Frida’s entire focus was on trying to get to the cub.
“I’ll be bringing your food,” Magnus said. “Don’t fash yourselves about that, but I’ll no longer be sleeping here. I’m moving in with June and her nan.”
He paused then, half expecting the animals to turn their bright eyes in his direction. To him, the news seemed as powerful and transformative as a Pangaea-rending seismic shift. However, the bears didn’t even sense his tension. Instead, Sorcha executed a half pounce and bit her toy grizzly straight on the nose. Frida watched the younger bear intently.
Magnus sighed. Maybe the beasties were right. He was being overly dramatic. He wasn’t proposing to the lass. She knew he was moving in for practical reasons. Neither of them had made promises or spoken of a future. He was simply helping a mate, not bargaining away his freedom.
* * *
“She’s finally asleep,” June said quietly as she slipped into bed beside Magnus. She didn’t know why she bothered to lower her voice. She’d removed her grandmother’s hearing aids, and Nan couldn’t detect a sound.
Magnus placed his laptop on the nightstand next to him and started to turn off the light, but June laid her hand on his bicep. He stopped, his gaze locking on to hers. “Aye, lass?”
She smiled—and it felt good. She hadn’t been doing enough of that lately. “I’m not planning on going to sleep right now.”
He scowled, and she wanted to kiss away his frown.
“You need your rest, lass.”
June winked. “I need you more.”
Red crept over his cheeks, but June could tell her words pleased him. He reached out to cup the back of her head. She adored when he did that. It made her feel safe, cherished even.
